


Paradise Leans

by translunartea



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Drabble, F/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 10:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/translunartea/pseuds/translunartea
Summary: “Everyone else is already gone or just dead, my dear.”





	Paradise Leans

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble I wrote a very long time ago on Tumblr, and forgot about until now! I thought I'd go ahead and post it.  
> Title taken from [_Algiers_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0-OLs_qVqw) by the Afghan Whigs

When they came to the center of the dunes he was shaking off fatigue, and she watched him without much movement on her part. The sand worms had long ago burrowed themselves deep into the earth, their hissing fading into nothingness. Dawn had yet to break across the land, but the heat was doing its part in rising around their legs and Zelda could taste it in her mouth. She looked to the sky, a mottled pink and gray color, strange and ugly yet wondrous all the same.

“I suppose the rations have run low.”

Zelda reached inside her cloak and brought out a beaten old canteen, handing it carefully to her companion. She didn’t watch him drink. They continued onward, the horses guiding them through the sands in a slow gallop. Hair stuck to her face and neck and she wrung her bare hands, the gloves long ago abandoned.

“How far along are we?”

“Another sunset and we’ll have made it. Hopefully they’ll have plenty of salve and soup.”

Zelda gazed at his face and neck, raw exhaustion running through her. He seemed to have aged in the last several sunsets, his eyes hooded and wearily dim. She reached out and looped her arm around his and pressed the side of her head against the firm, wide canvas of his shoulder. Sweat from her bare forehead seeped into his sleeve, slowly making it damp. One hand stroked Ganondorf’s bare arm, while her other hand skidded up her plain dress and into her cloak pocket, feeling for the letter.

“Oh, don’t read it again. You’re starting to wear the parchment thinner than dry wheat.”

“Suppose it’s a hoax.” She fingered the letter, but did not bring it out. “Meant to draw us from the battlements to some other death. No one else is en route but us.”

“Everyone else is already gone or just dead, my dear.”

Zelda grew still, but remained close to him. Any sounds vaguely resembling words died in her throat, and she gazed at the sky instead. For a moment, she wished it would collapse upon them, burying them in clouds and water and fallen stardust. The mere thought of being suspended in an otherworldly sort of existence comforted Zelda, and she thought perhaps she’d gone mad from the heat, or something else.

Still, it would have been better than the reality they’d come to know. The thought of it weighed heavily on her mind, and she closed a fist close to her heart, muttering soundlessly to herself.

“I can hear you _reflecting_. It’s exasperating, you know.”

“Hyrule has become a graveyard in the wake of war. I’m not reflecting. I’m praying.”

“Prayer, reflection.” He shrugged against her and Zelda felt her cheek rub into the cloth of his tunic, exposed without the endless shadows of armor. “Both traits of wisdom. May Nayru favor you, yet.”

There was no energy in her to retort. Beyond the clouds and dunes lay what Zelda imagined was a slumbering sun, the dark and mottled sky bearing down on them ever quicker. The scent and feel of a storm made way to Zelda’s senses and she sat upright as best as she could, the otherwise dry heat slowly turning to mugginess. Ganondorf seemed aware, as well; his eyes were alight and wide, searching the lands before them.

“I do not remember the desert so expansive as this, nor any trace of rain.”

She heard his words, but felt something else in her bones, like something had silently shifted around them. The letter was tucked deep in her pocket, and she brought it out now, shaking it open. Her thumb traced the faded lettering, sliding past _survivors_ and _refugee grounds_ in a shaky blur. The words interspersed with flashes of memory; collapsed structures of their fallen kingdom. She forced down a sudden wave of nausea.

“Do you wish we could turn back?”

Ganondorf was gazing down at her, his lips chapped, his breathing slow and deep. Zelda shut her eyes and inhaled his scent — faraway spices, or cloves. Distant, yet familiar, and she hoped to all who reigned above that she’d never forget it.

She swallowed. “We have to move on, no matter what I wish.”

Ganondorf nodded slowly, though he knew her conviction was forced, and his eyes betrayed the knowledge. She glanced at him once and once only, her body facing forward, her thoughts screaming to go back, back, _back_.

The smell and taste of rain was growing stronger, and Zelda studied the skies as Ganondorf kept his gaze fixed on the dunes. Their hands were still joined, his larger thumb tracing the smoothness of her smaller digit. Zelda focused on his touch, and they continued on, the horses as silent as the world around them.


End file.
